Sing to Forget
by FantasyFoSho
Summary: A series of oneshots, depicting characters in Frozen during events experienced at various ages in their lives, some shown in the movie, others filled in as well as alternative scenarios and oneshots that place the characters in alternate worlds.
1. Where Is Her Sister?

The girl is five. 

Her parents are in the room, watching her play. She has a doll in each hand. Two dolls. One with red hair and one with yellow hair. They are best friends in the world she made for them. When one jokes, the other laughs, when one laughs, the other jokes about that laugh, and on and on they would go until the girl who controls them cannot laugh anymore. Cannot pretend to laugh anymore. She falls onto her back. Stares up at the ceiling. Where had her sister gone?

She looks up at her father, walks to his feet, squeezes his legs. Reaches up to touch his face. He's too high. She taps him instead and he bends down. She squeezes his nose and he smiles a small smile. She pretends to need a glass of water. He offers to come but she refuses. She's a big girl now, she says. Capable of getting a glass of water. Her mother laughs. Her parents share a look and then the laughter dies and her father sits back in his seat and stares at nothing, and her mother stares at nothing too.

She passes the kitchen, never really wanting to go. She doesn't need a drink. She needs her sister. She needs her _friend._ Where has she gone? She tiptoes to the stairs. Crawls up on hands and feet, thinks that'll be quieter. Climbs. The stairway curves. Curves some more. Keeps curving and soon enough the girl is dizzy. She stands, halfway to the the top, and walks the rest of the way. She's in a hallway now, empty like how she feels. She finds the door. Not her own door. _The door_, and she is afraid to knock. A long moment passes, silently. She waits. Raises her hand.

Just do it.

She knocks. Waits. Whispers. Knocks again. _Knock, knock, knock._ No answer. Repeats what she said, louder this time. And then again, louder. The name bounces off the walls. No answer. The girl wants to cry but crying will make her parents come and they will take her away. She knocks again. Asks a question. And another. Explains why she's there. Finally a sound.

She gasps, steps back. Movement inside. And then a voice.

_Go away, Anna._

The girl begins to back away. They're friends, she tells herself. Best friends. Why would her best friend want her to go away? Did she say something wrong? Maybe she didn't hear right. She's dizzy from the stairs. Maybe her brain isn't working.

Or maybe it wasn't her. Maybe something happened to her friend. Her _sister._ Maybe she hurt her head and she was sick. That's why she's in bed all the time! The girl strikes her forehead with her palm. How could she miss that? Stinker brain, she calls herself. If she was sick, then maybe she forgot. If she forgot that's okay. The girl can make her remember. She'll make her sister laugh and she'll remember. And if she can't remember they'll just be friends again. Brand new friends. And then after that they'll be best friends and then they'll play.

She begins to walk away. Stops herself. Turns. Get better soon, she whispers, and she goes back down. Down stairs that creak, onto marble floors in shoes that clack, into the kitchen where it was silent, and soon she becomes silent too. But now there is a sound. The sound of her beating heart, which crashes against her chest. She gets her water, brings it back to the room where her parents are sitting, staring at nothing. The girl sighs and drinks from her cup. Stops. Looks at it. Half empty or half full? She couldn't say.


	2. The Humblest of Beginnings

The world was open and infinite and changing.

It moved through it, beholding everything that was and would be. A blank form there, shapeless and then shaped. Becoming a… rectangular structure?

It looked at the _Other_ _It. _Not quite sure what word to use as more angles became formed and then stillness and it assessed _Other It_ once more.

No, not quite. _Other it_ had rectangles and triangles. How can It call _Other It_ one thing when it was two things? How did it decide? Four rectangles and two triangles. Is it called a rectangle because it is more a rectangle than it is a triangle? But that too was wrong and It knew it.

* * *

><p>'<em>What are you?'<br>It asked._

Other It turned to look.

_'Are you a rectangle? Or are you a triangle?'  
><em>said It.

'_I am neither.'  
><em>Other It replied.

Neither… It wasn't expecting that.  
>It thought that Other It would get to choose between the two choices.<br>But what if there was more then one?  
>What if… there wasn't a choice at all?<p>

'_Then what?'  
><em>It asked.

_'I am called Rectangular Prism_.'  
>Other It replied.<p>

Rectangular… Prism.  
>Rectangles and Triangles.<br>Yes, It could understand the first one.  
>But what was a prism?<p>

_'How did you choose?'  
><em>It asked, curious.

_'Shh… Shapes do not talk.' _

_'But you are not just a shape, you are—'_

'_I am a Rectangular Prism. I am a shape and nothing more.'_

* * *

><p>Time passed, but It did not have a concept of time. It moved as time moved, never proceeding, never stopping, never going back. Just stuck in place, but never still. It came to know more about the world through Other Its, in the moments before they passed. To where, It did not know. They did not leave, but It didn't feel like they were where It was, so they must be somewhere else. How did one get there? To that somewhere else? Did It have to be something else too?<p>

What was that like? To be something? Would It ever know?

And then It felt. It was a pulse. Slow at first and then fast and then too rapid for It to track. There was a feeling coming over It. Wait another moment and… yes, something was changing. A shimmering right before It. And then… something. Another It, but not really. It was… not like the Other Its. This Other…_ Thing_ moved. It had long strands of _something—_

* * *

><p>'Hair...' Other Thing whispered with its <em>something—<em>.

_'Mouth...' _Other Thing said. Still soft, but its _mouth_ changed. The corners curved upwards like _some—_

_'A smile. I'm smiling.' _Other Thing's tone changed. It was… something.

'_Playful.' _Other Thing said. _'Because I feel like we're playing a game.'_

A game. It didn't know what that meant.

_'Is that your name?'  
><em>It asked, remembering.  
><em>'Are you Smiling?' <em>

_'No, silly.'_  
>Not-Smiling replied.<p>

_'I am not Silly, I am… I am...'  
><em>It didn't know what to say. What was It?  
>It was It, but what exactly was… It?<p>

_'What are you?'  
><em>Other Thing asked. And added,  
><em>'Call me a girl. Or Elsa.' <em>

'_You are both of those things?'  
><em>It asked, pausing.

'_Both of those things, yes. And more.'  
><em>Elsa replied.

It was confused.  
>'<em>More? How could you be more?'<br>_

'_I don't know. I just am. What are you?'  
><em>A Girl or Elsa repeated.

_'I am… nothing.'  
><em>It seemed right.

'Do you like being nothing?'

It thought about it, and Nothing now seemed wrong.  
>He didn't want to be called Nothing.<p>

'_...No.' _

'_Do you want to be something?'_

It thought about that, too. Could It change what It was?  
>Nothing didn't seem right.<br>'Yes! I would like to be something?'

'How about a circle?'

It would rather be Nothing than a Circle.  
>'No, I know many circles.'<p>

'How about two circles on top of each other?'

'That is a number. I do not want to be a number.'  
>Eight. It would be Eight, but eight was just two circles.<br>Almost every other number was better,  
>but It didn't want to be any those either.<p>

'How about three?'

'I do not want to be a number.'

'Not the number. Three circles_, silly.'_

'What is that?'  
>Could it be a number It did not know about?<br>Maybe It could be that, if It was Special.

'It is... three circles_.'_

'I do not want to be Three Circles. '

'Okay...'  
>The girl, Elsa, was silent.<br>'How about this!'

'What?'

'Three... spheres!'

It was... something.  
>'Is that different from three circles?'<p>

'Yes. It has a better name. Snowman.'

'Snowman? I would be Snowman?'

'No... you would be _a _snowman.'

'But I do not want to be just a snowman.'  
>It wanted to be special.<p>

'You won't be. You will be Olaf.

'Olaf and a snowman?'  
>What was an Olaf?<br>And if It was Olaf and a Snowman,  
>What would be Its name?<br>Olafman Prism?  
>That did not sound right.<p>

'Yes. You will be a snowman, and Olaf will be your name.'

'I don't understand.'

'Not yet, but you will. Come, I will show you what I mean.'

And then It_—Olaf_, was gone.


End file.
